Easter was strange.

I’d had half a gummy on the Saturday evening to relax me before bed. I think that I need to take them several hours before bed and even half a cannabis edible gummy is too much for me: Sunday I felt a little like I had a hangover, no headache, but that range foggy feeling and lack of energy.

Since Friday, the husband has been sleeping in the main bed with me because he’d made a mess of the back bedroom and there was nowhere to sleep. When he’s in a bad place, he doesn’t take his medicines properly, he’ll usually take a week’s worth in one go, washed down with a bottle of brandy or three, and then have nothing left for the rest of the week. This is the reason the doctor will only give him a week’s worth of medicine at a time.

Sunday, then, I wasn’t quite with it.

The husband talked.

Neither of us can really believe what’s happened. That we are over.

In my mind, it’s not over until the documents are signed and he moves out. Until they are signed, we can always change our minds.

Not that I know whether I want to change my mind.

It’s horrible feeling that I have to be so careful with what I say and how I say it – I feel as though I have to second-guess every word. Not that it makes any difference: when we’d last talked, he thought that I said that he looked old and was just a big of bones.

I was confused by this because I had no memory of saying that. My memory for what I say is appalling, so I’m glad that I write so much down these days!

Nope. I’d not said it. I read him what I’d actually said.

It did leave me wondering whether other things he’s accused me of saying to him are also true? I know that some are, because I remember the incidents – but I wonder whether he thinks that he remembers more and worse – that his head has invented when he’s been ill and misusing drink and medication.

I am so confused about what’s real because I’ve always had to accept what he says because my memory is so bad – especially when I’m approaching an ASD shutdown – that I have taken his word for things … and maybe they’re not all true?

I cannot know the truth really.

He came into the main bed last night again, but was muttering to himself and complaining. I’m afraid that I was too tired and went to sleep anyway. He was in the back bedroom again in the morning.

Today is Easter Monday. He got up around midday. There’s an atmosphere, so I have gone out to have a coffee and a quiet read by myself.

I’m feeling tired and very sad.

The weather feels so mixed up, like my feelings, rain, wind, then the sun will shine briefly, before a downpour soaks everything.